


Scratch

by Das_macht_spass



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Coming In Pants, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, Exhibitionism, Goro Akechi has a nice ass, M/M, Pool & Billiards, Pool Table Sex, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-01-31 02:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21438676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Das_macht_spass/pseuds/Das_macht_spass
Summary: Things get pretty... charged during a game of eight ball.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira
Comments: 9
Kudos: 200





	Scratch

**Author's Note:**

> A heated game of eight ball between Akira and Akechi turns into trouble. Trouble with a capital 'T' and that rhymes with 'P', and that stands for Pool (hall sex). You get a cookie if you caught that reference.

Akira and Akechi stand on opposite sides of the pool table, both fixated on the game and nothing else. They’d been playing pool together for a few months now. And today is the first game, where Akira feels like he’s giving Goro a run for his money.

"Seven ball, corner pocket." Akira exclaims, striking the cue ball with precision. It collides with the solid, sending it rolling towards the raven's intended destination. The seven ball sinks in the pocket with a satisfying clunk. Akira beams a radiant smile in disbelief at how well he's doing. Could today be the day?

"Nice shot, Akira." Akechi mutters, almost a pathetic whimper, as his hands fidget with his cue stick and chalk. He stares at the floor, expression forlorn. When Akira had invited him to the pool hall, Akechi accepted, expecting another opportunity to rout him. He was on a seven game win-streak after all. As their match went on, Akechi's spirit deflated to say the least. The raven was on fire, there was no other way to put it. He'd sunk solid after solid. Though Akechi put up a valiant resistance, it seemed his efforts were going to be in vain.

""Well, looks like I just need to sink the eight ball now. " Akira can't stop his cocky smile. The bragging and showboating, that always followed one of Akechi’s wins, grated on Akira’s ears. He was so ready to put an end to the detective's infuriating streak. "Eight ball, center pocket," Akira throws out a dramatic hand, as if he was about to serve some criminal justice. "Then you can kiss that little streak of yours goodbye!" He throws an air kiss for emphasis, making Goro reel back in embarrassment.

Goro knows it's immature, but he starts to panic. His pool skills were one of the few things he could still lord over his arch rival. Despite being a celebrity detective, it always seemed like the part-time barista thrashed him in all other competitions: darts, card games, or even checkers. Pool is the only competition he’d never lost a game in.

Akira's already assumed his stance, laying his chest on the pool table in pure smugness. He has a composed aura, one eye closed, the tip of his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth. He's lining up his pool cue, already taking a few experimental jabs in the air. Akechi's running out of time, and he needs to stop him.

"Wait, I have a proposition." Goro speaks, one hand pushing against his hip in a flamboyant manner, he sweeps his hair back with the other hand. He hopes Akira won't recognize it as a desperate bid to stall for time.

Akira backs off the pool table, eyebrow raising, skepticism clear. Still he humors Goro.

"Okay, I'm all ears." He offers, as he plays with the fringes of his hair out of habit.

Akechi tries not to be too obvious with the relief he feels. He tries appealing to Akira's competitive spirit.

"Whoever loses this round has to do whatever the winner wants." It's a generic bet, Akechi's still wracking his brain for a way to save his streak. 

“Anything?” Akira asks for clarification, confused as to why Goro would offer a bet like that while he’s losing.

“Y-yes. Nothing’s off the table.” Akechi stutters a bit, as no plan has come to mind yet.

"That was a bit stupid, huh?" Akira sends the detective an aggressive glare. "I'm about to win after all."

Akechi actually starts to pout, puffing his bottom lip out. His opponent was right, there's not much the detective can do. And all Akechi had accomplished with more time was raising the stakes. Seething in frustration, he stomps the ground without thinking. 

A painful fire surges through Akechi's thigh, and he groans in absolute discomfort. It hurts so bad, Goro's pleasant boy facade breaks, and he cusses.

"Fuck! That stings! Goddamnit! Fucking cramp!" 

Goro's hand flies down to the back of his thigh. He massages deep, soothing circles across it, before moving up to the origin of the unbearable pain: his buttocks. He kneads there for a while, hissing in discomfort, before sighing pleasantly as the pain fades away. 

Unbeknownst to Akechi, Akira had stopped focusing on pool all together. Instead his eyes stare transfixed at the stunning sight of Goro Akechi massaging his ass and moaning. The raven had always had a hard time ignoring Akechi’s... assets. Today Akechi seemed to pick the tightest pants possible, pants that complemented his amazing ass.

Akira is so drawn in by Akechi’s rear, that the pool cue falls out of his hand, and collides against the floor with a thud. His unoccupied hands squeeze the empty air, imagining gripping the detective's bubble butt, and squeezing it like a stress ball. 

Akira starts licking his lips in appreciation, before he shake his head viciously. He vehemently chastises himself at that pitiful display. He can only hope Goro didn't notice. 

Unfortunately for the thief, Akechi was an ace detective, with a keen eye for detail. He caught the raven's shameless ogling, but chose to keep his comments to himself.

_'Does... Does that fool think he's being subtle?' _Goro wonders, barely able to believe what he witnessed. His rival was checking him out? 

Akira refuses to even look at Akechi anymore, he bends over and retrieves the pool cue, a faint blush dusting the raven's cheeks.

_'Wait. There may be a way to win this game after all... '_ A dangerous gambit of a plan dawns on Akechi.

Akechi's mind is torn, as his competitive thirst clashes with his dignity. The clash is neck to neck, revolving around one simple question.

Was Goro Akechi, a prestigious detective prodigy, willing to use his body to save something as petty as a win-streak?

Akira lines up his shot again, he’s ready. This will be his first victory against the pretentious detective. “Eight ball, center pocket.” His voice booms, composure found. To make this shot he’ll need a little controlled flick of the cue stick. He tests the waters, making varying motions with his dominant hand, before grinning as he finds the perfect strength. He cocks his hand back, ready to pocket the decisive ball. 

The humiliating prospect of conceding defeat is not an appealing one. Goro finds the answer to that internal struggle. 

It was a resounding, shameless yes.

Just before Akira takes the shot, the sound of depraved mewls and light spanks slaughters his concentration. He finishes his shot with an overpowered jab. The cue ball flies off, colliding against an unintended target, but Akira doesn't even notice. His eyes fly to his opponent. 

What he sees sends Akira's jaw to the floor.

Akechi had turned his back to Akira, putting that gorgeous ass on display. He spanks his left ass cheek through the fabric, letting out embellished groans. Despite being covered by fabric, Akira swears he can see Goro’s ass jiggle after each slap.

Akechi somehow holds back a snicker at his rival's reaction. He does feel powerful though, as he realizes he's dashed Akira's hopes and dreams. He stretches his arms towards the ceiling, letting out a pleased sigh.

"Sorry if that was a little strange." Akechi rubs his neck bashfully, and lets out an hapless laugh. "My second foster mom always said that slapping cramps helped them go away." An innocent, pleasant facade is glued onto his face.

"Oh, It looks like you've taken your shot." Akechi points to the table where the eight ball rests in defiance. Akira wants to cry as he realize what just transpired. "Thanks for pocketing my twelve by the way. That one would've been a tricky shot!"

He shoves his stunned rival to the side, eager to reassert his dominance at the game.

Akira can do nothing but watch in horror as Goro pockets all of his striped balls with the cold, calculating efficiency of an assassin. Pretty soon, the only ball that remains is the eight ball. Goro had evened the match in one brutal turn.

"I have to admit you came pretty close this time." Goro leers at the eight ball's position. It's a painfully easy shot that even a rookie could make. "But today just isn't your day, Akira."

Akechi is on such a power trip, that he takes a big risk. As he assumes his stance, he sticks his ass upwards in the air. Way higher and farther out than necessary. He does it to mess with Akira, just because he can. _‘Yes. He lost because of my rear.’_ Akechi can’t stop a smirk from stretching across his face. Akira truly was pathetic. He wiggles it a couple times teasingly in plain view of his rival.

Akira's gaze hardens at the brazen display._‘Akechi knew what he was doing. He was distracting me with his ass.’_ The thought causes a strange reaction. Akira’s both infuriated and aroused. Infuriated that Akechi had the gall to resort to such cheap tactics, but aroused by the lewdness of it all.

Akira stares at that ass, pure mischief shining in his eyes._‘I think it’s time for a taste of his own medicine.'_ A plan starts to develop.

Akechi can almost taste his eighth win a row. ”Eight ball, corner pocket.” 

“You know, Akechi.” Akechi doesn’t look back at his opponent, he just wiggles his ass a little in response, before bringing his cue back. With his face turned away from his rival, he doesn't feel the need to hold back his sadistic glee. His eyes gleam with aggression, and he giggles lightly. 

“Go ahead, Akira. You can’t say anything that’ll change the outcome.” Akechi breathes deeply in relief. Soon his streak would be safe, extended even. And all because his rival had no control over his baser needs.

Akira can hardly believe just how wanton Akechi’s being in a public place. The pretentious detective juts his plump ass so far back, that Akira wants to wolf-whistle and spank it, show it the treatment it deserves. He can hold back though.

_‘After all, I’m about to win a reward, so I better not get greedy...’_ Akira chuckles to himself.

“Yeah, I can’t change that.” Akira admits, before he smirks like a cat who caught a canary. “I also can’t change how big of a slut you are.”

Akechi's body jerks in surprise as he takes the shot, his focus massacred. The shock from the remark made him take an overpowered, sluggish jab. The sound of two billiard balls being pocketed mixes with Akechi’s surprised shriek. “W-what!”

Akira’s cocky grin sends ice down Akechi’s spine. It’s the kind of expression Akira made in the Metaverse as Joker: merciless, arrogant, and cool. “Playing with your ass to throw me off my game makes you a slut in my book.”

“Not just a slut who does lewd things in public...” Akechi’s breath hitches as he notices the other players in the hall. They’re far on the other side of the room, but if they weren’t so wrapped up in their own games, they could have easily spotted him acting like that. Akira approaches the detective, ghosting his mouth centimeters away from his ear. “But a slut who scratched on the eight ball.”

_'I... I what?!'_

Akechi's disbelieving gaze turns to the pool table. Sure enough he'd pocketed both the cue ball and the eight ball. Utter embarrassment makes Akechi tremble. Not only had he lost, but he lost in the most amateurish way possible. Akira savors the sight of Akechi getting his just desserts. He leers at the dismayed defeated detective, wasting no time in claiming his reward.

"I just want one simple thing for beating you." Akira's dark, piercing glaze makes Akechi's stomach burn. He gestures to his pants, where the fabric juts out, Akira's hard cock forming a tent in the denim. "Just finish what you started."

Goro's face blazes red in embarrassment. "I suppose that's fair..." His voice has a nervous tinge to it, one that Akira wants to hear more of.

"Don't worry it'll be easy." Akira shoves a yelping Goro onto the cushioned rail of the pool table, forcing him to lift his ass high in the air. "We can get it out of the way right here, right now." Akira grips Goro’s hips, surprised by how lithe and supple they are. He slams his crotch against the detective’s ass.

Akechi’s entire world spins as he feels his arch-rival’s hard, throbbing cock grind into him. _'Why am I reacting like this?!'_ Akechi's mind reels from the pleasure and danger. He should throw his rival onto the floor, and put an end to this foolish idea. 

And it was definitely a foolish idea. Getting caught like this would ruin both of their lives.

Over night Akechi's reputation would burn down, leaving his plans crippled.

Akira, who already had a criminal record, would be charged with indecent exposure and tossed to the justice system without a second thought.

Somehow the possibility of being caught makes Akechi even harder. He just shakily starts to palm himself through his pants, groaning softly at the idea of being watched in some seedy pool hall.

Akira keens as he can feel his dick settling in the crack of Goro’s luscious ass, squeezed by the two massive globular ass cheeks. Despite being covered by slacks, Akechi's ass is just... wow. Akira finds himself getting lost in it. He grips each pillow-like mound, and pushes them together as close as possible. The warmth of Goro’s ass enveloping his cock is unlike anything he’s ever experienced, and it squeezes a moan past Akira’s lips. 

“God, Akira! You’re such a depraved pervert!” Goro hisses. "Do you want us to get caught?!"

Akira’s gaze hardens like steel, sending a shiver down Akechi’s spine. 

He pushes the detective even more harshly, forcing his face to lay sideways against the green fabric of the pool table. “You’re the one who started this. Putting on a show with that bomb ass of yours.” The new position gives Akira more leverage, which makes his humping even more effective at wrecking both of their worlds.

“Face it Goro! You’re a pervert too!” Akira backs off, and spanks his ass several times in quick succession. 

Goro just barely manages to swallow a gasp at Akira's obscene words.

"Nngh...I suppose I am, we're absolutely depraved." Goro admits, letting out a quiet laugh at being caught red-handed. "Rutting against each other in some seedy pool hall, filled with onlookers." 

Akechi’s eyes go glassy and watery. The combination of Akira’s aggressiveness and his own skilled palming proves too overwhelming. His mouth falls openly silently, drops of drool staining the table, as he starts to mewl. The pleasure was starting to take over his sanity. He needed something to take the edge off.

Goro undoes his belt buckle with one wobbling hand, so that he can tug at his cock. Low moans leave him as he strokes his cock frantically. He bites his lip to try to keep quiet, eyes scanning the room to make sure no one's caught wind of their obscenity. Akechi's heart nearly leaps out of his throat at what he finds. 

"Akira!" Akechi mutters, attempting to alert Akira without exposing himself to the entire room. Because, fuck, he spots a familiar face. "Kitagawa is right there!" 

"What."

_'You've gotta be kidding me.'_ Even at this news, Akira can't slow down. It feels too good.

Akira looks and sure enough he sees him. The tall artist, sitting at the counter across the room, sipping on a drink with a serene thoughtful air surrounding him. He must have come here by coincidence, probably to sketch the surroundings. Somehow he hasn't noticed them. It should serve as a warning sign to Akira. Any sane person would stop this perverted display. Instead Akira doubles down.

Akira’s grip on Akechi’s hips tightens so much, that it’ll probably leave some bruises. And damn does that thought go to Akira's cock. He whines at the idea of Goro giving an interview, wearing a physical reminder of their love-making. Akira's thumbs press into the squirming hips even harder, rubbing circles into them.

Akira's rough grip draws pathetic wanting yelps from Akechi. "You're so rough!" Akira rubs his cock even faster against Akechi, all reservations and worries gone. Akira's quickly approaching his brink.

In between the thrusts of his hips, Akira can’t stop himself from glancing at Yusuke. Somehow the idea of getting caught by one of his closest friends, as he humps his sworn rival is the sexiest thing he’s ever thought of. 

Akira’s desperate humping finally finds a nice little rhythm just in time for Akechi to start shifting his ass back in time with each rut. Akira can’t hold back a loud, audible moan at that. He spots Yusuke's shoulders tensing, and an excited, wanton rush hits Akira. 

_'Shit! Did I just see Yusuke turn his head?!'_

“Ha. Kitagawa sees us, huh?” Akechi tilts his head towards the artist. His voice is casual, strange for the detective. He doesn't even seem concerned with being found out. Akira's eyes trail towards him. 

Yusuke's cheeks are a deep, consuming red, disbelief etched onto them. His hand presses against his face, barely covering an absolutely scandalized expression. The artist's eyes, which Akira can see peeking through his fingers, aren't turned away by the perversion. Yusuke just stares, watching the two rut against each other like animals in heat.

_'Yusuke's watching us! He sees us like this!'_

“Let him see, Akira! Show him how thirsty you are for my slutty ass!” Akechi whispers sinfully, face wearing a manic, lustful expression. He gyrates his hips mercilessly.

"F-fuck, Akechi!"

Akira's restraint cracks, voice echoing across the room. He doesn't even wonder if anyone else heard that. He's too lost in bliss.

Akira knows it’s twisted but he can't stop indulging in this. The thought of Yusuke, an objectively gorgeous person, watching such a shameful display, learning just how dirty his composed, cool leader was, sends jolts of thrill through Akira's already hazy mind.

Akechi grins as wide as he can, wrapping his head around to meet Akira's frenzied gaze. His voice sounds deep and dark. "Just think of him sitting there, hopelessly aroused, wishing he was us."

That's enough to make Akira cream his jeans, as his back arches. Somehow, thank god, Akira manages to bite his hand, muffling his gasps of pleasure. Even though he's spilled, he keeps humping Goro, intending to see it through.

Goro quickly jerks himself to a similar state. He trembles at the combined pleasure of his pumping hand and Akira’s vigorous pace. His free hand, which was gripping one of the cushioned rails, moves to claw at the green fabric of the table- an attempt at grounding himself from letting all of Japan hear his orgasm. He thrusts into his fist a few more times, before it's too much. He spurts a load into his slacks, sighing blissfully at the warm feeling of his come coating his briefs. He would have shouted for all to hear, making for a wonderful tabloid picture, had Akira not brought a helpful hand to his mouth.

Akira brings his reering head to Akechi's shoulder, nuzzling it for a few seconds. The two sit in a haze, bodies resting haphazardly against one another, stunned by the afterglow. Akira presses a soothing hand between his rival's shoulder blades. Slowly the pleasure fades, and the detective and thief exchange looks of pure, mutual panic. They need to get out of here, fast.

Akira darts a glance at where Yusuke was sitting. He frowns as he spots the blushing artist being scolded by the pool hall owner. Apparently his sugary drink had spilled onto the rather expensive looking cash register. Yusuke meets Akira's gaze with a sly, satisfied expression. He winks, and waves his hand frantically: a wordless message. 'You're welcome for the distraction, now get out of here you horny idiots.'

_'What a loyal friend.'_' Akira makes a mental note to thank Yusuke later, no matter how awkward that conversation was going to be. 

Akechi and Akira nod simultaneously. Akechi, who had been lucky enough to wear dark colored pants that day, nearly crashes through the hall's glass door. Akira, whose blue jeans did little to hide the embarrassing stain, covers his crotch with his duffel bag, and lags behind awkwardly.

One sad lonely thought echoes through Akira's mind.

_'We can never come back to this pool hall again.' _And it was really a shame. It was the closest one to Leblanc after all.

* * *

The two are sitting in Leblanc, which is devoid of customers as it had closed an hour ago, drinking coffee. They try to rationalize what just occurred. Well, Akira was sitting. Akechi was nervously pacing around the floor, taking an occasional sip from his cup. 

"Good god! We're idiots!" Akechi shouts, tugging at his hair in worry. Akira can hardly believe how flustered Akechi looked. The detective usually had a composed manner. Seeing him like this was adorable. "How could we let that happen?! Do you have any idea how bad that could have turned out?"

"Hey, at least no one but Yusuke saw us." That doesn't seem to relax Akechi. "Don't worry, he can keep a secret." Akira adds, vouching for his friend. 

The other boy shakes his head. "That's not what I'm worried about. He probably wants to draw us nude now..." 

"Yeah, I can see that happening." Akira huffs in amusement, before shrugging haplessly. "What's done is done."

"I suppose you're right" Akechi giggles lightly, innocent facade switched back on. "It felt rather nice."

"Yeah, it totally did. Would you be down to do it again? Maybe somewhere more private?" Akira replies without missing a beat. He blushes as soon as the words reach his own ears. He plays with his hair nervously.

"Hmm... That sounds doable. I'll be in touch, Akira."

Akira's body stiffens. He opens his mouth to respond, but he can't think of any words right now.

"Oh, and Akira?"

"Yeah, Goro?"

A look of pure mischief shines on the detective's face.

"Do try to refrain from humping people in public, Akira."

Akira sputters, face heating up. 

The detective struts, hips swaying side to side, as he departs. 

A fire lights in Akira's stomach. He's not about to let the detective get the last word.

"Hey, Goro!"

Goro turns his head back smugly.

"Try to get better at pool." Akira retorts.

Akira has never seen a smile turn into a frown so quickly before.


End file.
